Teach Me How to Die
by TheLastofUs
Summary: All Dean ever really wanted was to gain some kind of reaction from the infamous stone-faced Castiel. There are better ways to go about this, Dean belated realized, than to bully him. Harsh words flying, Dean waits for Castiel to hit him, throw back a few insults, or something. He never wanted to see Castiel's Number drop from 84 years to 32 minutes.
1. Teach Me How To Die

_A/N: Warnings: mentions of rape, child abuse, suicide, and a lot of curse words. Have fun! (This is based off a tumbr post about seeing the day someone dies but I forget it now sorry)_

Teach Me to Die

Dean always knew the saying that "words hurt" but somehow he never really believed it. It was the type of thing like people would tell you that there's a vacuum in space, and sure, it makes sense, all right. But you never really truly _believe _it. It's just a fabrication, something that someone else told you, and you accept it as fact but you don't place faith in it. That's exactly how Dean would describe how he felt about the saying "words hurt." There was also "stick and stones" right? So he didn't place his faith in it.

Dean was _popular_, God he really hated that word, but he knew he was popular. He had tons of friends, or people that spoke to him, gave him a high five, grinned in his direction, he had a pretty nice life, or maybe it was just that he was nonchalant. His mom died when he was four in a house fire, but he forced that too deep down to focus on it. He had a fine life. He did what he wanted and didn't listen to people who tried to tell him to do shit. He was known for that.

He also knew when people spoke of him, they attatched his last name: Dean _Winchester_. Like he was an object and if you didn't say _Winchester _it wasn't really him. Dean _Winchester _knocked up Lisa last weekend. Dean _Winchester _cursed out Mr. Henrickson in second period. Dean _Winchester _skipped fourth period to get drunk. He knew all this, and he didn't really give a shit what other people said. Words didn't mean anything.

Then there was Castiel, and no one had to say Castiel's last name because his first name was good enough already. You could call him Blue Eyes even and everyone would know who you're talking about. Even if you were talking about someone else who had blue eyes, they'd think of Castiel at the very mention of blue eyes.

Dean had two classes with Castiel, and anyone who spent a minute with the guy knew that Castiel was strict with rules, didn't color outside the lines, and wore an oversized trench coat that he must be burning up under. They spoke very little and stared very frequently. It was like a lightning storm striking between their eyes. When they did speak, Dean (admittedly) was rude and harsh. Castiel stood stoically like a warrior in armor, hit after hit, he said nothing and turned away when Dean was done. It was _infuriating_, and Dean tried harder to earn a reaction every day.

The Numbers.

They were inconspicuous, just little black numbers, sort of like Times New Roman font, size eleven, right above the head. You could easily miss them if you tried, and many did. All were supposed to. It didn't take long into man's existence to realize the numbers ticked down until the day of death. Supposedly, they could change, but no one really realized when they did since they weren't supposed to be spoken of. They blurred together in a huge sea of grey above the heads of hundreds. You couldn't read them anyways.

Dean had a sort of crowd, a little mass of people that would surround him. They laughed when he made a lame joke. It was weird at first but Dean learned that it was fun to mess with them, make a crude joke or comment that he knew they wouldn't agree with and watch their facial expression fluctuate and contort before they agreed with him. Castiel was the only one that ever ignored him. It was something Dean did too often: mess with people.

The crowd made it easier to try to mess with Cas (what Dean called Castiel in his head). Dean would walk up to Castiel, the mass of people behind him making it harder for Castiel to just push past him and leave. He did that twice before. They stared at each other for a short period of time.

"Yes?" Castiel had a really deep voice.

"Your shirt looks stupid," Dean blurted, hearing the people around him snicker and murmur in agreement. Dean followed Castiel's eyes for a reaction.

Castiel looked down at his shirt and then back up at Dean. "Okay," he said.

"What? You have a habit of looking stupid, stupid?" it was lame, Dean knew.

Castiel didn't respond.

"You like to be ugly, too?" Dean got closer, he was a few inches taller than Cas. It was like casting a huge shadow over Cas' face. "You're good at it, at least."

Castiel was always the same. He stared up into Dean's eyes and didn't say a word. He didn't blink. He just stood there, taking it all.

"How do you live with yourself?"

Castiel had no reaction.

Dean laughed humorlessly and shook his head, turning around and leaving. Dean swore to himself there would be the day when Castiel would just up and punch him in the face. He longed for it. He wanted to break the mask of Castiel's face. It wasn't _normal _never to react. It wasn't _normal _to never fight back. What was his problem?

Dean was fucked up in the head. He knew that now that he looked back at it, but he actually asked Charlie _Bradbury _(it wasn't her unless he said her last name, too,) to dig up some dirt on Cas' personal life. It only took two hours before she emailed him a document that he read thoroughly and prewrote some insults in his head. When he looks back at it, he probably could have gained a reaction by choosing to do something on the romantic sides of things. Or kindness at least. He could have tried to make Cas blush or smile instead of give Dean a shiner. He should have tried that instead.

But he didn't, because after school the next day, Dean told his little group of people to go on without him. He wanted a reaction from Cas, not to humiliate him in front of the whole school. Everyone passed by him, it was like Dean was a fish swimming upstream. The mass of black scribbles of numbers atop the heads of the kids followed and rushed to the door with the soul it was attached to. Dean caught Cas in the library before he could leave.

Cas looked as stone-faced as he always did.

Dean was despicable, he pushed Cas' shoulder and he fell against the wall. "I know what daddy did to you," he cut right to it and it was fucking satisfying how Cas' eyes widened just a fraction of a centimeter.

"And you know? It's probably the best thing to ever happen to you. I mean who else would willingly touch something so disgusting?"

Castiel didn't respond but something was broken in his eyes. Dean faltered. He didn't know why he continued.

"So your mommy died giving birth to you, your daddy took your body as he took hers. Shame he's locked up though. I bet you loved it when he'd fuck you. He's the only one to ever want you."

Dean could see Cas' chest quiver, the corners of his lips shake. His own chest felt way too tight, like someone was grabbing him, choking him. He should have stopped there, apologized or some shit, but he didn't. He wanted Cas to grow up and punch him. Kick him. At least talk back to him. Insult him.

"No one wants you, Cas."

Cas blinked, but that was it. His face didn't change other than that.

The Numbers did, though. They ticked down.

_84/4/22 _for years/hours/minutes.

They got smaller, smaller and fucking _smaller_, Dean couldn't tear his eyes away because Dean had never seen numbers change by year before. Dean couldn't _breathe_.

_0/0/32_

Why wouldn't he say anything? He looked no different than he ever had. He didn't look angry, upset, sad, _anything_. He looked so _normal_.

_0/0/31_

Castiel pushed past him and walked to the door. Some kind of hurricane teared up Dean's chest.

"H-Hey! Wait a minute!" he shouted before he could help himself.

Castiel didn't stop walking, he disappeared behind the door and Dean could hear his footsteps echoing down the hall. Dean felt frozen in place before he broke out running. He had never felt his heart beat so fast in his life. He didn't want this type of reaction. He would never want this type of reaction, and how the _hell _was he supposed to know where Cas went?

"Cas! Wait!" he yelled, and he was sure his voice shook with fear, with guilt. He checked the closest bathroom which was empty and then burst through the doors of the school and got into his car.

He had never been so glad to have Cas' address before and opened his email on his phone. He pulled out and sped down the street. Cas lived two blocks from school, so he probably walked to and from the deathtrap (thanks to Dean, quite literally, fucking genius he is.) He slammed on his breaks when he saw Castiel hugging the trench coat tighter around his body. He was crying.

Dean rolled down the window and said, "Kid, get in."

"Fuck off."

"He speaks!"

"Fuck off."

"The same words but-"

"What the hell do you want, Dean Winchester?" Cas got the memo. It wasn't really him until you said _Winchester_.

"I already told you," Dean motioned with his head. "Get in."

"And I already told you to fuck off."

Cas walked faster and Dean rolled along side him. "I'll drive you home."

"I'll be home in twenty minutes if I walk."

"Ten if I drive you."

Castiel stopped and glared at the grass under his feet. Dean watched him carefully before the numbers above his head ticked down even more and he got into the passenger seat.

_0/0/16_

Dean floored it and sped down the street. He could practically hear his heart beating in his chest. He couldn't see the Numbers with his eyes on the road but he could fucking _feel _them.

"Turn here."

Dean drove faster past the street.

"You missed it! Just stop. I'll walk if you weren't serious."

"I am serious."

"Let me out!"

"No!"

_0/0/02_

"Then I'll jump out!"

"Don't you fucking dare! What the hell is your problem?"

_0/0/17_

"You are! Let me the fuck out of your car!"

"No!"

"So what? You're kidnapping me? You want to rape me too? I thought I was too disgusting."

"Shut up! I didn't mean any of that shit!" Dean gripped the wheel tighter, feeling a little like crying himself. He felt so fucking stupid.

"Sure," Cas spat out the word. "Do me a favor and drive us off a cliff."

Cas leaned against the window, eyes blue and wide as they took in the world. The Numbers gradually grew. Dean tried to make himself breathe. He would die himself before he let Cas… do that. He turned on the radio to distract himself. His heart was the roaring sea still waiting for the calm. He kept sneaking glances at Cas as he drove to nowhere and beyond. Every word he said sat heavy like poison on his tongue. He was really too beautiful to ever be even thought of as disgusting.

Castiel's nose scrunched up adorably. "What kind of music is _this_?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You don't know Led Zeppelin?"

"No."

"_Seriously_?"

Castiel made a noise with his mouth and shrugged. It got quiet after that, and Dean really hated the wordless conversation, so he said, "Well what kind of music do you like?"

"Shut up."

It felt like knife, honestly. "What?"

"What?" Castiel looked over at him. "_What_?" he repeated, "You fucking demean me for years, torture me emotionally and act like my heart and soul is your toy to play with like every other one is- Oh apparently Dean Winchester is _God _in this fucked up world. So you go too far one day, you see my Numbers because why the fuck else would you ever give a shit about me other than to be a hero and save my life? Well I don't fucking want to be saved so take me the fuck home!"

"You curse too much."

"Shut the fuck up and take me home!"

"No! Kid-"

"Stop calling me 'kid!'"

"_Cas-_" Dean amended. "You got a lot of life ahead of you don't just throw it away because I'm an asshole."

Castiel laughed humorlessly. "Dean Winchester insulting _himself_. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Look, I-" Dean couldn't get his voice to work. "This sounds really stupid but that's only because _I'm _really stupid, I just wanted you to fight back against me. I thought if I went to far you'd hit me or something. You never react at anything."

"So I'm your fucking _project_?" Castiel only sounded angrier. "Let's string up the freak and poke him until he begs for death. Sounds like so much fun."

"No! Look, you're not a freak or stupid or ugly or disgusting or anything else I called you, I just-"

"You don't understand, Winchester," Cas spat out, "It's not you. Yeah, sure, you pointed it out and shit but that doesn't make it any less true. I'm a bastard child that killed his mother, what else do I need to do to deserve to die? My mother was- I'm sure she was a perfectly nice, beautiful woman and because she chose me over an abortion she died. It should have been me so I'm putting it right."

Dean stopped the car and both of them jolted and their heads hit the back of the seats. Castiel took the opportunity to grab for the door handle but Dean beat him to it. Leaning over his body, he ripped Cas' hand away from the door and blocked it with his arm. Their faces were inches apart.

"I was wrong, don't you fucking get that-"

"No!" Castiel yelled. "No, I _don't _get it!"

"You listened to me when I insulted you so listen to me as I set it straight!" Dean felt his throat being teared up. How loud he was probably hurt Cas' ears or surprised him or both because he quieted down. Their breaths intermingled and Dean's eyes met Cas' in a way that was much more tender than how they used to clash. He dropped his armor. His eyes dropped down to Cas' lips and then back up.

"You're worth it," he said softly. "I don't care who tells you otherwise- I don't care if it's me- You're _worth it_. If you leave like that you'll regret it, there's so much you want to do with life. You're just- Don't, please don't do it, I couldn't live with myself if you-" he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"I should," Castiel spoke up. His words lacked conviction. "To show you what a fucking asshole you are."

"I am."

"You are."  
>"I am," Dean murmured again.<p>

"Yeah," Castiel was as quiet as he was.

They were so _close_.

"We should go out to dinner or something," Dean requested.

Castiel breathed in deeply. Dean watched each breath with the utmost cherishment.

"I don't like Italian."

"Chinese?"

Castiel nodded. His eyes were so _blue_. Every fiber in Dean's body was screaming for him to kiss him, but he leaned away and settled back in his seat. Castiel looked shaken up, confused. His chest moved up and down quickly like he was having the same problem as Dean with his heart. Cas bit his lip and looked out the window again, pulling the trench coat over his chest in some attempt to protect it from the war outside, beckoning, knocking, like maybe it would be worth it for Cas to open the door and rush into some stupid teenage love. It wasn't some movie though. He shoved his face into the glass of the window. Dean started up the engine again and watched him. His fingers itched to brush the hair from his eyes. Maybe they would never actually work out. Dean screwed everything up pretty bad, but Cas looked in self conflict.

Dean took a deep breath and turned down the next street to the closest Chinese restaurant.

The _85/3/14_ over Cas' head was enough for him.


	2. Call Me Beautiful

_A/N: Okay so icesong180 requested another oneshot in the same verse, and I kinda cheated Castiel out on his character development so I wrote his backstory and the rest of the story (plus a little) from his point of view. I hope you like it._

_Psst: If you listen to In the Summer by Joel Faviere while reading it'll be awesome :3_

_Warnings: I explicitly write out the rape scenes, but idk it still might be a little intense._

Call Me Beautiful

Castiel's father wasn't abusive at first, he was a kind man for the first seven years of Castiel's life, and often, Castiel cherished the memory of him. He would tell Castiel stories of his mother, how she used to be, what she used to look like- ("_You have her eyes," he said one day. "I look at you, I see Evelin."_)- what she used to like to do; Castiel listened and held each word in the palm of his hand. It was warm and beautiful like a blooming flower. Castiel wondered if wanting to be beautiful was too girly to want for himself, but he held that thought behind his heart. He yearned for a lover one day to call him beautiful.

To this day, Castiel wasn't sure exactly what set him off. After his eighth birthday, his father started sitting closer and closer; he would touch his arm and lean in close to his face. Castiel didn't know the signs, and even if he did, he wouldn't know what to do about it. His father would start complimenting him in the smallest ways, each kiss to his cheek lingered longer, his eyes were prodding and dissecting. The first time it happened, he was drunk.

He came home, breath reeking of liquor. Castiel was on the sofa watching cartoons when the door opened loudly and slammed shut again. Castiel's head snapped around, frightened of the noise, but his eyes softened when he saw it was only Dad. He was slurring words that Castiel didn't understand, but he nodded throughout the one-sided conversation. His father stomped sloppily into the kitchen and got out a plate of whatever leftovers there were from the night before. The TV hummed in cheery voices and bright colors.

The sofa sunk down where Castiel's father sat down, slinging food into his mouth without much grace. Bites fell from his mouth and onto his shirt that was already stained with beer. He slurred out another string of sentences and Castiel acted like he knew what he was saying. It wasn't the first time his father would come back after a long day at work drunk. His father would be coherent again in the morning if not slightly grumpy and hungover.

His father looked deep into his eyes and slurred out something else and Castiel nodded again in acknowledgement. His father smiled crookedly and stuffed some more food into his mouth, chewing with his mouth open. Colors from the TV flashed over the profile of his face. Castiel watched the screen, smile curling around his lips as the characters made a joke.

"'er so pr'tty Ev'lin," his words were sloppy like chicken noodle soup on a plate. "So pr'tty."

His father was leaning over his shoulder, breathing next to his ear. His breath was hot and heavy on his neck when Castiel felt his lips touch him, wet and sloppy. He broke away from him, confused and dazed under lack of understanding.

"Dad? What are you doing?"

His father got over top of him, Castiel's back pressed to the cushions of the couch. Castiel's eyes were wide, confused and the first spark of fear ignited in his heart. His father was so large over top of him. He felt a dark shadow cast over him.

"Dad, I'm scared," he said quietly, voice shaking. "You're scaring me."

"S_h_h_hh_h," his voice wavered, dipped down quietly and then raised in volume. He hushed his son and stared only at his eyes. "L'v you," he said, "Ev'lin, miss you."

"D-Dad, I'm not mom," Castiel's words were rushed together. "I-"

His father mouth crashed down on top of Castiel's own painfully, teeth clashing like swords in battle. His strong hands were pulling at Castiel's clothes, holding him still as he tried to wriggle out of his grip. He was too frail and weak to get out of his father's arms. His body was crushing him under the weight. He could hardly breathe. His father was muttering more things that Castiel couldn't understand through his panicked mind.

"Dad- Stop it- I don't-" Castiel couldn't get the words out. His clothes were being ripped off. The air chilled his skin and goosebumps rose on his body. He started crying. He was scared. "Dad! Dad stop!" he shouted through his tears.

"No! Ev'lin why-" he hiccupped, "Evelin, love me!" he shouted out and ripped the rest of Castiel's clothes off his body. He bruised his arm with his grip. "Love me! You love me!" he yelled hysterically.

Everything was painful and Castiel forbids himself from remembering anything that happened. Everything was a blur of screaming and sobbing and weak hits. His father whispered about how beautiful he was, except he used female pronouns and called Castiel "Evelin."

He woke up the next day and remembered nothing.

Castiel fell asleep to the claws of nightmares, dripping and disgusting and filled with crude whispers and perverted touches. He distanced himself in school and from his father. His father didn't know what he'd done to make Castiel become so withdrawn. Castiel refused to tell him. After two months, Castiel forgave his father. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know it wasn't his late wife. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault, he didn't mean to do it, Castiel chanted this daily. He woke up in a cold sweat with the ghost of hands everywhere on him and pain burning through his body, through his screaming throat.

It happened again; he wasn't drunk this time.  
>He said it was owed to him. Castiel stole his wife, so he had to replace her. Castiel wondered if he sobbed enough and writhed in his arms, if he screamed enough maybe his father would stop or let him go, but he never did. He was twelve, going to school and starting to hear people talking about sex and gossipping about how great it was supposed to be. His math teacher was pregnant and had to miss months of school. He felt horrible and cried to himself. He couldn't believe she had to go through what he went through every other month or so.<p>

He stayed after class one day and looked at her.

"Sorry," he said softly. "It's okay."

She looked up confused. "Sorry? For what?" she shook her head.

"Didn't it hurt?" he asked.

"What hurt?"

Castiel gestured to her baby bump.

She smiled at him. Why did she smile? "It hurts a little, but it's all right."

"You didn't cry?" he asked as if he was inspired. Like it was his new goal for next time it happened, he wasn't going to cry. He was going to be tough like his teacher. "You didn't scream either?"

She looked at him as if she was horrified. "Castiel? What- No, of course not! Why would I..?" she never finished her sentence.

Castiel nodded. "Oh. Okay. See you tomorrow."

Castiel went home and bit his lip until it bled, and held in his sobs and screams as his father violated him. He left Castiel on the floor of the family room, bleeding and broken and spent. His father left small whispers in his ear, that he was so pretty, so beautiful, Evelin. Castiel hated the twist up his chest when he was called beautiful. He wanted to be beautiful, like his mom. He wanted to see a picture of her.

The next day at school, his teacher asked to see him after class. She sat in the desk beside him when everyone else left.

"Hello," she said softly.

"Hi."

"How are you?"

"I'm good."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She nodded, looking down at the desk she sat in. there was a small doodle of a flower in pencil on it. She sighed softly and looked back up at him.

"I'm going to ask you a serious question, and I want you to be honest, okay?"

Castiel nodded, confused.

"Did anyone ever try to touch you where they're not supposed to?"

Castiel looked at her wide-eyed. He didn't know how she found out. He looked down and shifted his feet. He didn't know if he was supposed to say anything.

"You can tell me, if anyone has. I can try to help you."

Castiel nodded quickly before he could change his mind.

Castiel's teacher looked so distraught, her face torn up. "It's okay," she said softly and pulled him into a hug. Castiel felt his heart jump and he pushed her away, already feeling tears brim at his eyes and his throat ready to tear open in a scream.

She looked so broken.

"S-Sorry- I just- I got scared-" he started to apologize.

"No, it's all right. You've done nothing wrong. I should have known better."

They sat quietly next to each other before his teacher sighed softly and rubbed her eyes as if she was trying to keep herself from crying. Castiel didn't understand why she was so upset. Someone touched her like that, why was it so bad when someone did it to him, too?

"All right, can you stay here a moment?" she asked and stood and used the phone in the classroom to call the office.

It was all rushed after that. Someone came to the door and Castiel's teacher whispered to him and he whispered back. They would glance at Castiel and then whisper some more. It was like they were CIA or something. They took Castiel to a little room where there was a really nice lady that asked him questions about his life at home. Castiel shrugged, mumbling, he didn't lie. He knew lying was a bad thing to do.

The next thing he knew, he was told he was going to be okay, that his dad wouldn't hurt him anymore, that his dad couldn't even _see _him anymore, and Castiel didn't understand. Even though his dad hurt him a lot, there were so many good memories that made Castiel upset he couldn't see his dad anymore. He would never get to watch cartoons with him ever again or cook spaghetti with him, he told Castiel he would teach him to grill next year. Still, they all looked super serious, like CIA people again, so Castiel didn't argue. He was put in custody of his uncle on his mother's side, Gabriel.

Gabriel lived one state over since he went to university there when he was younger. He was almost thirty now. He greeted Castiel with wide arms and looked at him in that I'm-So-Sorry-For-You way that everyone else did. Castiel felt like he was in a dark room. _Why _was everyone so sorry for him? He wanted to break something, but breaking things was bad, so he didn't.

Castiel got his own room at Gabriel's house. When he told Gabriel that he shared a room with his dad at his other house he got that same pitiful look. Castiel really hated that look. Gabriel took him to a store and let him pick out posters and rugs and blankets and pillows for his new room. Castiel was turning thirteen, and going through his last year of junior high school.

Castiel soon learned that he looked different. He had wide eyes and had heightened reaction senses. When anyone touched him he would flinch and try to throw himself to the other side of the room. It was terrifying when someone touched him. It felt like fingers burned. Unfortunately, touching and high-fiving and hugs were normal in teenagers, so Castiel had to cope. He nailed a mask on and screamed on the inside. He became so unapproachable that no one tried to be friends with him. Castiel liked this a lot better than having the unscratchable itch to run and cry.

Gabriel was overly kind to him. He never said no unless it was harmful to his health. It was infuriating. Sometimes Castiel just wanted Gabriel to say "No you can't get ice cream tonight." There wasn't anything he could do, though. He liked Gabriel, nonetheless. He gave Castiel space and didn't feel upset when Castiel stood two feet away from him at all times. It wasn't like he stood any closer to anyone else.

Castiel liked learning. It was an escape. He loved to sing and he loved to learn. He played music loudly and closed the door to his room, stepping outside to see how loud it could go without being heard. The walls were thick enough that he could sing quietly without anyone hearing.

He was self-conscious, of course, he still wanted to be called beautiful, and though he told himself he long since gave up on that dream, he never really gave up. He looked in the mirror and wondered what what supposed to be beautiful. He hung a towel over the mirror and then went to his bed. He stared up at the ceiling and sung to himself until he heard footsteps outside and stopped. Gabriel knocked and opened the door to ask if hamburgers were okay for dinner. They were.

High school was Hell, and that was an understatement. For some ludicrous reason, it was great fun and hilarious to make others feel less of themselves. Apparently, sex was all there was to being a great person. It was unspoken that Castiel had a vow he would never allow himself to love someone. He didn't want to hurt anyone. His father loved him, he felt Castiel in his hands and broke him through his knuckles, bleeding palms and all, he dropped him onto the floor and stepped over the shards. Castiel wondered if his father looked any different than he did since the last time they saw each other.

Dean Winchester, Castiel still cringes at the name, made his life better if only he was six feet under. He didn't know what he ever did to deserve to be stabbed through the back daily. He didn't know why Dean was so fascinated with taunting him. He would constantly stare at him in classes (he had four without him).

Castiel walked home that day and locked himself in his room. He yanked his shirt off and avoided the mirror. He crumpled it into a ball in his lap and stared at it. He stared at it and stared at it and stared at it.

_Your shirt looks stupid._

Castiel put a hand inside the sleeve, staring at the shape it made. He wondered if it was the color or style that made it ugly. It was blue, like his eyes. He wondered if his eyes were ugly, too. They probably were. Castiel threw the shirt under his bed and pulled the sheets on his bed over his body. He felt his arms press against his bare chest and felt the urge to scream. He hated it. He hated his body, his arms, his chest, his face, his eyes, his everything- he threw the sheets off his body and put on a sweatshirt.

He sang quietly to himself. The song was wordless like he was hopeless.

* * *

><p>It was really just one sentence that broke everything Castiel ever tried to build up. And leave it to Dean fucking Winchester to bring it upon him, too. He didn't really know why he didn't try sooner. He didn't know why he didn't realize it first himself, that no one wants him, needs him, will ever love him, etc. He just wanted it all to end, he had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted to die right then. It felt like the first shred of light in his dark life, and when he pushed past him to just do it, he heard Dean call after him.<p>

Castiel wanted to laugh. Wanted to scream. It was so obvious. Castiel knew his Numbers changed, the Numbers above his head that showed his day of death, he knew they changed. This gave him an odd sense of excitement. It was disgusting how much he wanted to die. But then, that's who he is. Disgusting.

He could feel himself crying and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was his body's protest. Some selfish want of his flesh to live. He didn't have anything to live for, he never did. Maybe he would want to compose music some day, or even become a teacher like the teacher that saved him. He didn't know what would have happened to him, how he would have turned out if his father was still there behind each door of his home.

He swiped a hand across his cheek and fought the urge to sob. He just… He just wanted to to be _over_. The thought of finality gave him the first spark of hope he'd had in seven years. A car drove up beside him from where he was walking on the grass beside the road. It wasn't passing him, just driving along side him.

"Kid, get in."

Castiel wanted to laugh. Dean Winchester was so _insane_.

"Fuck off," he opted for.

"He speaks!" Dean teased and Castiel grit his teeth in anger. He wanted to break that car window that was rolled halfway down.

"Fuck off," he said with a bit more conviction.

"The same words but-"

Castiel wouldn't allow him to finish. He erupted in pent up frustration, "What the hell do you want, Dean Winchester?

"I already told you. Get in."

Castiel hugged his coat around his body and walked faster. "And I already told you to fuck off."

"I'll drive you home," Dean offered.

"I'll be home in twenty minutes if I walk," Castiel said deadpan.

"Ten if I drive you."

Castiel stopped and stared at the blades of grass poking around his shoes. Would he really get in the car with the man that made him want to walk into the sea with a millstone around his neck? It wasn't Dean's fault he was worthless though, he just pointed it out. Castiel sighed and walked around to get in the car. Relief washed over Dean's face and Castiel didn't understand why. Dean took off fast.

"Turn here," Castiel didn't have to sit long in silence because his street wasn't that far up.

Castiel could have sworn they sped up instead when he should have turned.

"You missed it! Just stop. I'll walk if you weren't serious."

"I am serious."

"Let me out!" Castiel argued.

Dean shouted, "No!"

The urge to die overwhelmed him and in a split moment he really really _really _wanted to open the door and jump out. He'd probably die on impact by how fast they were going, and if he didn't, another car would hit him. Seemed like a nice plan to be honest.

"Then I'll jump out!"

The words hardly left his lips before Dean's face contorted into something of horror and anger, "Don't you fucking dare!" he shouted. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You are! Let me the fuck out of your car!"

"No!"

Castiel's heart thudded in his chest and he felt pins and needles poking all over him. He didn't understand, he didn't understand, he just didn't _understand _why Dean would be against him dying. "So what? You're kidnapping me? You want to rape me too? I thought I was too _disgusting!_"

"Shut up! I didn't mean any of that shit!" Dean's voice shook. Castiel didn't understand why.

"Sure," he said bitterly. "Do me a favor and drive us off a cliff."

They fell quiet after that. Castiel looked out the window lack of anything else to do. He didn't want to look at Dean. He wondered where he was being taken. His fingers wrapped around the door handle. He really wanted to jump out. He didn't though. He wanted to know why Dean was trying to stop him. Rock music filled the car and Castiel realized Dean probably switched the radio on. It wasn't that bad of music. The singer's voice was nice. He'd heard it once or twice before. He had the urge to sing or hum along, but there's no way he would do that with Dean in the car.

"What kind of music is this?" he asked softly.

Dean looked at him like he just asked who the first president of the United States was. "You don't know Led Zeppelin?"

"No," Castiel admitted.

"_Seriously?_"

Castiel hummed or made some kind of noise. He wasn't even sure what is was. He slumped against the window again. He felt like it was getting too intimate. He knew something about Dean now, he loved Led Zeppelin, and he wasn't _supposed _to know things like that. This was Dean Winchester. He was Castiel Novak. It was like trying to glue two wrong puzzle pieces together. His heart felt calmer. There were many, many things Castiel didn't understand.

"Well what kind of music do you like?" Dean broke the silence.

"Shut up," Castiel said abruptly. What was he trying to be his _friend _after all these years of torment?

"What?" Dean sounded so fucking innocent it made Castiel want to hit him. He never did though.

"What?" Castiel glared at him. "_What?_" he repeated, "You fucking demean me for years, torture me emotionally and act like my heart and soul is your toy to play with like every other one is- Oh apparently Dean Winchester is _God _in this fucked up world! So you go too far one day, you see my Numbers because why the fuck else would you ever give a shit about me other than to be a hero and save my life? Well I don't fucking want to be saved so take me the fuck home!"

"You curse too much."

That whole rant and Dean comments on his _language_? Castiel was on fire, about to erupt.

"Shut the fuck up and take me home!"

"No! Kid-"

"Stop calling me 'kid!'"

"_Cas-_" Dean corrected himself. "You got a lot of life ahead of you don't just throw it away because I'm an asshole."

Castiel laughed humorlessly. "Dean Winchester insulting _himself_. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Look, I-" Dean was stuttering. "This sounds really stupid but that's only because _I'm _really stupid, I just wanted you to fight back against me. I thought if I went to far you'd hit me or something. You never react at anything."

Castiel's blood was boiling. He was close to breaking something in the car. "So I'm your fucking _project_? Let's string up the freak and poke him until he wants to die. Sounds like so much fun."

"No! Look, you're not a freak or stupid or ugly or disgusting or anything else I called you, I just-"

"You don't understand, Winchester," Cas stopped him, "It's not you. Yeah, sure, you pointed it out and shit but that doesn't make it any less true. I'm a bastard child that killed his mother, what else do I need to do to deserve to die? My mother was- I'm sure she was a perfectly nice, beautiful woman and because she chose me over an abortion she died. It should have been me so I'm putting it right."

Dean slammed on the brakes and Castiel's head hit the back of the seat. Castiel's hand scrambled for the door handle, having fallen off when the car stopped, but Dean was too fast and got there before him. He was leaning over him, so so so so so so so so so so _so fucking close_. It made Castiel's heart beat faster and faster and he almost screamed. He could feel Dean breathing on him, he could _feel it_, but it felt different somehow. It wasn't heavy and deliberate. It was urgent and tender. Panicked. Why was Dean panicked?

"I was wrong, don't you fucking get that-"

"No! No, I _don't _get it!"

How could Dean even begin to think that he was wrong with what he said?

"You listened to me when I insulted you so listen to me as I set it straight!"

Dean raised his voice and it really did make sense. Castiel didn't know why he only listened to Dean while he said things negative. He quieted, heart thundering. He looked up at him, feeling fright grab at his soul but it couldn't quite reach him. He bit his lip. Dean was looking at him strangely.

"You're worth it," is what Dean said when he finally spoke. His voice was sweet like a lullaby. "I don't care who tells you otherwise- I don't care if it's me- You're _worth it_. If you leave like that you'll regret it, there's so much you want to do with life. You're just- Don't, please don't do it, I couldn't live with myself if you-" his words found their graves.

Castiel felt choked. How could anyone say something like that to him? That somehow he'd be missed? That somehow he deserved to live? That he was worth it? Castiel couldn't wrap his mind around it, but with Dean being so close, staring so intently, Castiel couldn't bring himself to fight. His heart fell in his chest. He felt defeated.

"I should," he said slowly, softly. "To show you what a fucking asshole you are."

"I am," Dean sounded relieved. Why was he relieved?

"You are," Castiel muttered again. For no reason. Why did he say it again?

But then Dean said it again, too, "I am," he said.

"Yeah," their voices were like birds in the sky. He wondered how Dean sounded when he sang.

They were so _close_.

"We should go out to dinner or something," Dean said abruptly.

Castiel took a deep breath as if it would calm his heart. It didn't. He couldn't bring himself to say yes. He couldn't bring himself to say no.

He blurted, "I don't like Italian."

A smile cracked into Dean's worried face. "Chinese?" he suggested.

Castiel nodded. Dean gazed at him so intently, like he was the only thing in the world. Castiel could hardly breathe. For a terrifyingly hopeful moment, Castiel thought Dean was going to kiss him but he let out a huff of breath that fell over Castiel's lips and Dean leaned back in his chair again as if he was collecting himself. Castiel wondered why the thought of Dean kissing him wasn't as revolting as it should be.

He pulled his trench coat tight over his body and stared a hole through the glass of the window. He did not want to think about things like that nonetheless about _Dean Winchester_. As if he would _ever _look at Castiel in that light. He built up bigger, thicker walls around him. He could never let himself fall for Dean. He could feel it. He could feel it, he wanted to. He wanted nothing more than to let himself gaze at Dean's lips in the way Dean gazed at his own. He wanted Dean to call him beautiful. No one else mattered anymore. No one. He just wanted Dean to say it.

He pulled at his hair and didn't realize when the car stopped outside a Chinese restaurant. Dean looked at him in that adoring way that made Castiel want to hide and step closer at the same time until Castiel shook himself from his thoughts and opened the door. He didn't know when the longing for an end had passed. It was replaced with a longing for Dean.

They ordered a large chicken fried rice and ate out of the carton with two spoons. It was so simple and Castiel didn't know why he felt so alive. Gabriel was probably wondering where he was, Castiel realized belatedly and he fished his phone out of his backpack to text him. He could feel Dean watching him. When he leaned back, Dean leaned forward. They moved together. It was like they were connected at the heart by a string.

After Castiel sent a message that he was eating Chinese with a friend, Dean asked, "Can I see your phone?"

Castiel looked at him strangely. "What? Why?"

"Just-" Dean opened his palm and moved it around.

Castiel looked from the hand to Dean's eyes and sighed before he placed his phone in his hand. He didn't know why. He shouldn't have. He definitely shouldn't have. Dean did things to him, tricked him, taunted him-

This was all some big joke.

A big prank.

Castiel felt cold.

Dean was still messing around with his phone and Castiel wanted to lurch over the table and steal it back. He didn't need to, though, because Dean handed it back in a few seconds.

Castiel stared down blankly at his contacts.

_Gabriel._

_Dean._

Castiel looked back up at Dean in confusion. "Why-"

"Just in case," Dean said hurriedly. "Like just in case you get down or something again, just text or call me or whatever."

Castiel couldn't help himself, he said, "You feel sorry for me. Is that it?"

"What? I don't-"  
>"You know what happened to me, and to add to it, I'm fucking suicidal, and you feel sorry for me. Now you look at me like every other fucking person who knows."<p>

"No! I-"

"This is a joke then!" Castiel stood up and wanted to run out the door. "Waiting for the cameras and stupid jocks and-"

"Has it ever occured to you that I just _care _about you?" Dean interrupted loudly. A few heads turned their way.

Castiel looked down at the floor. "No," he said, "It hasn't because you _don't_."

"You can't just tell me what I feel!" Dean argued. He was standing, too, now. "I was a fucking idiot okay? I mess with people, I didn't really realize that had this type of serious consequences, but I never wanted this to become of you, okay?"

"So I'm your charity project."

"No!" Dean shouted, sounding frustrated.

"Then what _is _it?"

"Can't I just want to be your- friend?"

Castiel felt like he was standing ankle deep in the waves on the beach. He couldn't fathom how someone as perfect and beautiful as Dean would want to bother with something like him.

"No," Castiel choked out. "You can't."

"Why _not?_" Dean asked exasperated.

Castiel could feel people watching them. Why did they have to start this in a restaurant? He felt like he was trapped in a TV screen. In an alternate universe, maybe he was.

"Because I'm _wrong_," Castiel blurted. "I'm fucked up and broken and stupid and you're the perfect Dean Winchester. Just- Just stop it."

"Can't you just let me try?" Dean asked softly. "Look, I don't know where you get these ideas- Well, I mean- You know- I know I said- But I lied okay? You're really attractive and your eyes are so beautiful and I just- You're not stupid or broken, or if you are maybe that makes you even more beautiful."

Castiel couldn't breathe.

_Beautiful_, he thought_, he called me beautiful_.

"Really?" he asked in a small voice.

"Yeah," Dean said sheepishly. Castiel saw Dean starting to blush, realizing all of what

he just said.

Castiel was quiet, trying to hide a small smile on his lips. He grabbed the carton of rice that was now kind of cold but he stuffed a spoonful in his mouth anyways and walked out the door, expecting Dean would follow him. He did. People were still watching them as they left and Castiel half thought they would clap but they didn't.

"Can I eat it in your car?" Castiel asked. He didn't know if Dean was strict about food in the car.

"Sure."

Castiel nodded and slid into his seat. He spooned more and more in just to keep himself busy. His mind was buzzing. He felt kind of giddy. He looked up at Dean for a second and then immediately regretted it because Dean was already staring at him. He looked back down and felt his face heat up. What was wrong with him?

"You're smiling," Dean said, kind of awed.

Castiel touched his puffy, rice-filled cheeks. "Mm."

A grin stretched over Dean's face. "I like it when you smile."

Castiel wanted to hide for an altogether different reason and stuffed another spoonful of rice into his mouth. He felt happy. Like _really _happy for the first time since he can remember. Dean chuckled beside him and Castiel realized he probably looked ridiculous. He couldn't chew there was so much food in his mouth. This was a bad idea, looking back at it.

They got to Castiel's house and Gabriel poked his head by the window and smiled at him. Castiel got out of the car and offered Dean the rest of the rice, but Dean just said since he liked it so much, he could keep it. Castiel's face flushed and he nodded.

"You'll text me, right?" Dean rushed in before Castiel could close the door.

Castiel looked at his bag and back up at Dean. He didn't respond. He quickly closed the door and rushed inside. Gabriel was asking him all kinds of questions like who he was and if they had fun and things like that. Castiel pulled out his phone and nodded all throughout the inquiry.

Dean received a text.

_Yeah._


End file.
